Endless Possibilities
by CrazyAbout
Summary: Keeping the cast from seasons 9 and 10 together, then fast forwarding to the film, Harry has apparently jumped from the bridge. The question is why?
1. Chapter 1

The morning coffee that he'd just enjoyed, had been brought to him by his brand new secretary. A quiet little soul, a bit on the nervous side. He intends keeping it that way, given that he's the top dog now, with the keys to the kingdom and a glorious future mapped out in front of him. Years of plotting and not so patiently waiting, and he's finally been appointed to the job that he's craved. One which will require people to treat him with respect and to address him by his new title. More than that, it's come with the delicious irony, that the one person that's stood in his way, has handed it to him on a plate. Spectacularly to boot. Who'd have thought that the once revered Harry Pearce, would have turned out to be such a poor loser?

Which is why ten minutes later, having left his brand-new office, he marches onto the grid, with the intention of milking it for all it is worth. What he hasn't banked on, is being face planted across the meeting room table by Dimitri, when he's called Harry a coward. Just over a year to the day, since Ruth's body had been helicoptered away from the marshes. Months during which apart from those first few dreadful weeks when their boss had stayed away from Thames House, Harry had remained the same. Just kept his head down and got on with the job, despite having to cope with the obvious void that losing Ruth had inflicted on him. A man they respected and always would.

In the background and like a relentless angel of doom, is the rolling repeat of the moment that Harry has climbed up onto the bridge.

'Apologise to the Director General at once,' screamed Erin, the sheer horror of what she is witnessing, being overtaken by a need to calm things down. Not meaning a word of what she's saying, but visualising a future where the implications are far reaching, she needs to put a stop to this. Especially as the usually contained Callum, appears to be rolling up his sleeves in support of Dimitri.

That Harry is dead is bad enough. That he's killed himself as Mace is suggesting is inconceivable. She of all people knows the inner battle that Harry's had to fight, not only with his grief, but against a system that had taken the easy option as they always did, by allowing the Russians or more importantly Sacha, to walk away without punishment. Eventually being forced to agree that he and his father have the right to remain in London, had been a bitter pill to swallow. Providing that Harry didn't have to see either of them under any circumstances, the only concession that he'd been offered.

Since Harry's suspension over Albany and then reinstatement, the transition had been a difficult one and she and Harry had never been what she terms as close. But despite this and certainly since Ruth's death, they've muddled along. The occasional drink at the end of a long day, being the closest they've got to them both acknowledging that they needed to find a way, has allowed her to keep a discreet eye on him, and she imagines him on her. In fact over the last few months or so, she'd been so sure that he'd started to come out of the darkness. So why now, as opposed to when it had happened? And equally disturbing, what is it that has made him decide to do something that's so totally out of character?

'Have they actually found his body?' Callum asked Mace, breaking through the silence, as the new DG rubbed his chin that is turning much the same colour as the black eye that is developing nicely. Pouring himself a glass of water and resisting the temptation to throw it in Mace's face.

From his own experience, he knows that the Thames is a deceptively deep and unforgiving river, and that depending on where and at what stage of its tidal flow a body goes in, determines the chance of finding it. Added to which, there is the problem that if they do, there will be little or no chance of it being confirmed as Harry's. Even without the large barges and the smaller river traffic that shred – god what thought, everything in their wake, long term immersion in water doesn't preserve, it does the opposite. Skin shrivels and disappears, taking with it anything that would help with a DNA analysis. During his early days at six, he'd been present when some body parts had been washed up and picked over. Not an experience that he wants to repeat. Especially if they think it's Harry.

Harry would have known this, so surely it's unthinkable that someone of his status would have wanted to commit himself to such a fate. He'd always imagined that when Harry died, that he'd have wanted it to be during service to his country and to be buried next to Ruth. For obvious reasons Ruth's name had never been mentioned in Harry's presence, _absolutely no mention of Ruth, do I make myself clear. Harry's fragile enough as it is, _Erin had said on the day that Harry had returned to work, is as clear in his mind as though it had been yesterday. But this gruesome scenario is almost worse than him losing Ruth. It's bringing the curtain down, on all but the memories for those that had really known them. The Home Secretary for example, who Ruth had worked for and had backed Harry to the hilt when she'd been killed.

This isn't finished by a long chalk. He's going to do a little investigating of his own and sod bloody Mace. How had he even succeeded in becoming DG? is the first question that needs an answer. The records indicate that he's had an exemplary career, whereas rumours make him think otherwise. It was also well known that he and Harry had shared a less than congenial relationship. What was that all about?

And then there's Erin's attitude. Is she really prepared to take this latest slap in the face lying down? But with or without her backing, he is going to take up the baton and see where it takes him.

Beth had fled the room, the stairs and Thames House and is currently standing by the river in floods of tears. Not the wisest of places to come, given what has happened, but somehow her legs have taken her there. The tide is in full flow which means that the Thames barrier had been open when Harry had jumped. God this is awful, she needs a drink, a stiff one. She'd lived with Ruth during the time when her relationship with Harry had blossomed to become more than colleagues. Desperation maybe, she'd never thought to ask them, but they'd finally drawn her into an unspoken confidence. A foil who'd been more than happy to disappear on the rare occasions that Harry had come around for an evening, or had stayed overnight. Mace is an odious grease ball in her opinion, so how dare he insinuate that Harry was anything less than the best section head that the service had ever employed.

She can't cope with this. Not on top of everything else that is going on in her life. Erin doesn't like her, god knows why? She's made a few mistakes, but then who doesn't? She turns up for work regularly, does her job to the best of her ability and she knows that Harry had trusted her, so why not Erin?

She'd missed Ruth, not as much as Harry had of course, but for him to do this now after all this time wasn't possible was it? Unlike the idiots who were still hopefully pulling bits off Mace, Harry knew how to guard his temper and the way he'd just melted when Ruth had walked into a room had been lovely. But Harry isn't here is he? Harry's dead. In which case she had no one that she feels answerable to. If Erin decides to sack her, she'll go back to the private sector and be done with it. She's going to strike out on her own now anyway.

Malcolm whatever his name is, might be able to help her. Harry's best friend as far as she can remember. The person that Ruth had turned to on that dreadful day when they'd all thought that Lucas was going to kill Harry. Then there are Harry's children, Catherine and Graham. Caught up in their need for a resolution, are the others even going to remember that Harry has family that need telling? She very much doubts it.

* * *

Mace had gone, threatening vengeance that would see Dimitri out on his ear. Dimitri, who'd been ordered by Erin to make some coffee, 'to give everyone time to calm down' had been her exact words, was back in the meeting room. In an atmosphere that was devoid of air or any kind of decision, each of them was still deeply shocked. It was Callum who'd had the sense, to pull the plug on Mace's recording.

'Right you've got five minutes to tell me how I'm supposed to save your neck,' Erin growled, still waiting for either an apology or a reaction. One that didn't include violence.

Finally looking up, with the face of someone that in the intervening time had made a decision, Dimitri took the wind out of Erin's sails.

'How about you stop worrying about me and let the rest of us put our heads together and find out why Harry did this?' Were the first words that he'd spoken since Mace had walked into the room. Actions spoke louder than words and he had no regrets about hitting Mace. Crazy at times, but Beth needed to be included. She'd been closer to Harry than any of them had; for whatever reason he'd never asked?

'Have you even stopped to think how this will be affecting Beth? She'll be devastated,' might not have been the best way of keeping Erin on board, but he wanted an answer.

Erin hadn't of course, she'd been imagining a grid without Harry, rudderless and potentially vulnerable without their section head. With officers who would resent whoever stepped into Harry's shoes. She knows that her colleagues won't believe her, so she doesn't bother telling them. But she doesn't want Harry's job again - not under any circumstances.

They're right though, she finally concedes. She needs to back them, whatever the consequences. 'Get yourself out there the pair of you and find Beth,' she tells them, leaving the room. Too early to see Callum pocketing the disc.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking in a dead man's, or in this case Harry's shoes, they've reached the bridge and Dimitri is tossing a coin. Neither of them wanting to, but one of them has to climb to the place where Harry was last seen. Not that it's really necessary. One glance at the fast-flowing river, tells them all they need to know about his survival prospects. Not a hope in hell, remains unspoken.

'Would you have jumped?' asks Dimitri, whose won the toss, so is going to keep an eye out. Just in case an over- zealous policeman or an inquisitive member of the public, turns up and thinks that Callum's about to end it all.

'Not if I had other options, which Harry did,' Callum tells him from his vantage point. 'For one thing there's a massive concrete support that's jutting out at the base of the metal work. Which means that if Harry did jump, he must have launch himself forward, or he'd have broken both his legs. Maybe he sidled further along, it's not that difficult if you can stand heights?'

That's not what I meant, thinks Dimitri. His mind going back to the day when he'd stayed with Harry. Dragging him out of the way, so that he could keep up the CPR on Ruth, no matter how pointless it might have seemed. Watching until the helicopter had disappeared into the distance with Ruth on board. The state that Harry had been in, making the decision that Harry shouldn't drive and that he needed someone to stay with him that evening. If there was ever a day when Harry would have done this, it was surely then? And yet here he was again, one year later, trying to make sense of another ghastly nightmare.

With Callum still out of the way, he looks around him. Remembering to breathe again, which he realises he's stopped doing. He glances up the road, in the ridiculous hope that Harry will come walking towards him, with one of those rare smiles, or a question on his face. One which says 'come on children, play times over.' So reminiscent of Harry and which he's going to miss more than anything. If Harry has done this, it will be something that will haunt him forever. Make him wonder if he should have seen it coming and could have done something to stop him. But then it isn't Harry that walks past him. It's some innocent, who has no idea how difficult this is for him to contain his emotions. A man and his dog, out for their morning walk.

'I'm going to ring Beth,' he calls out to Callum, making use of the last few moments on his own. He needs to do something positive, before Callum climbs back down.

When Callum does arrive, neither of them says anything, but they both know that they're thinking the same thing. Despite what she's said, Erin's not going to be happy about Beth being involved. Erin for all her good points, enjoys being the only woman of substance on the grid, and the relationship that she's built with Harry, she sees as the first of many stepping stones to greater things. Whereas Dimitri knows that Beth, for all her faults, is the person that he needs to talk to. They'd been a team, the two of them, through Albany and beyond. At a time when Harry had virtually thrown his career away to save Ruth, and he suspects, had done so willingly. Then having to watch, as Harry had walked off the grid to face Lucas. Ruth stopping them from going after him, despite her obvious anguish, because Harry had said 'it's my turn.' A small glimmer of hope, when she and Harry had walked into the Russian reception together, so obviously _a couple_. Only to see them torn apart again, by the bloody Gavriks.

But as much as he wishes he could turn the clock back to a time before Erin and Callum had come onto the scene. A time where life on the grid had survived with a modicum of a sense of humour. Almost always Harry's. When Tariq had been alive and before what he feels are replacements, not new colleagues. Without the clinical and 'you do this my way' approach that Erin has employed, he knows it can't happen. Just as surely as he knows that it's a reality, that Eleana Gavrik and her family, might have failed in their attempt to change the world. But the part that he cares about has been shattered. The part where he'd wanted to be 'mates' with Ruth, but she and Beth had been a lot closer, and by association with Harry. Which means that if anyone has any ideas as to what might have happened here and why, then it will be her.

But Beth's turned off her phone. She's at home and trying to resist opening the bottle of red wine with her name on it. Malcolm who she felt sure would be happy to hack into the grid's data base, is on holiday in America of all places, which means that she's basically on her own. If she goes into her own account and then tries to hack into Harry's details, it will send an automatic notification to Erin, so now what's she supposed to do? She wanders through to the kitchen and settles for a strong cup of coffee, hoping that this will enable her to remember some details, no matter how vague about Harry's children. She's already looked on the internet and there are thousands of families called Pearce who have children called Catherine and Graham. The problem is that she has no idea what Harry's two do for a living, and they're hardly likely to be on social media, telling their friends across the world wide web, about the latest exploits of their dad as a spy. Callum could probably do it, but then he's in league with Erin and he's hardly likely jump ship and become one of her buddies? She's just heading back towards the sitting room, when a knock on her door proves otherwise.

When Callum inserts the disk, with the intention of looking more closely at Harry's body language and expression, by enlarging the image, Beth's protests, are overtaken by her curiosity which is getting the better of her, and the fact she now has company that doesn't include Erin. This allows Callum to hit pause, just as Harry's figure appears at the end of the bridge. It's seven o'clock in the morning according to the recording, so if you going to kill yourself and don't want anyone stopping you, then this is probably as good a time as any to do it. But why this bridge? It's miles from Thames House and nowhere near to where Harry lives. Harry's well known for his planning and this has clearly been planned. He hasn't committed suicide on a whim. Nobody does do they, it's almost always calculated? Moving the recording forward, Harry continues to walk purposefully as he always does – so no surprises there, and as it's a cold day, it's understandable that Harry would have been wearing his heavy coat and gloves. When he reaches the centre of the bridge, which is the moment that Beth had fled the first time, Harry stops and looks both ways. It's obvious that he knows the exact spot where he intends to jump. Made worse on this occasion, because behind them, the clock on Beth's mantle piece chooses this precise moment to strike one. Like some ghastly death knoll in a film. Now it's Beth that realises that she's not breathing and is reaching for the tissues, as Harry takes those final few steps and disappears behind the pillar.

The whole thing from start to finish, has taken just a little over five minutes, but even so, surely someone else would have been crossing that bridge at that time of the morning? London is normally heaving with commuters long before that, but there's nothing, not a single soul. Also, and this is where there's an anomaly. As the tape continues to run, there's nothing more on it. 'Tampered with' looms large in their minds, but it's Callum that says it. He's also the one who's asked by Dimitri to go out and buy them some sandwiches.

'I need to talk to you without Callum being here,' Dimitri tells Beth, who is still sniffing, as she searches in the cupboard for the plates, whilst he refills the kettle.

'Assuming that we're right and someone has doctored that tape, then we need to find out who and why? Mace? But then what's he got to gain? Apart from the satisfaction of showing it to us, plus the top job. But then Harry didn't want to be DG, or did he?' He asks her.

Which leaves who? They have no idea? What they really need to do, is to put themselves in Harry's position, a year on from Ruth's death. But that's easier said than done. Whichever way you look at it, it always comes back to the same thing, or in this case the same person. Ruth. But what to do now, with Callum due back at any moment? They decide that they have to trust him. He's far better qualified to dig around into encrypted files than they are.

* * *

By the time that Erin reaches Mace's office, she's none the wiser as to how she's going to plead Dimitri's case. That is until she's met by Mace's brand new secretary, whose apparently knocked over a vase of flowers and is shaking from head to foot. An explanation, and Erin's ready for battle. She also resolves not to knock.

Mace's face and his temper have coloured up nicely in the interim. Good she thinks, and by the time she leaves, are at boiling point. Having assured the DG, that she has no intention of dismissing Dimitri, but will suspend him with immediate effect, for a cooling off period, as she calls it. She throws in for good measure, that the usually mild-mannered Dimitri, was clearly provoked. Something that she's prepared to repeat if needs be.

Furthermore, slamming the door behind her, she advises his new secretary not to let him bully her, but if he still persists, then to let her know. She'll deal with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Was he supposed to go back into work or not? Was just one of the many questions that had been rattling around in Dimitri's head. If he did, would it be better if he went in via the back stairs to avoid Mace? Or what if Mace was on the grid again, waiting to dismiss him?

Erin though had other ideas, which was why she'd rung him and told him not to be late. She'd come to a decision.

Two days had passed, since _the incident_ as Harry's death has now been listed. That's HR for you. Over twenty years of unparalleled service and your passing is described as an incident. Two days, during which Erin had also stayed away from the grid and it's high octane atmosphere. Time in which to think. Partly about Mace and how to deal with, or more importantly, calm potentially troubled waters. But mostly about Harry and what he'd have done, had their roles been reversed. She knew without a doubt, that there had to be a reasonable explanation as to why Harry has done this, and that had it been her, he'd have moved heaven and earth to find out why? Which was why she'd made a few discreet phone calls and devised a plan. Temporary staff were at her disposal, the Home Secretary had told her. Come and see me at any time Miss Watts, I want an answer to this just as much as you do, he'd said. Before he'd spoilt it, by making a feeble joke about Harry enjoying a holiday on a sun kissed beach. At which point she'd left, resolving to ring William Towers as infrequently as possible.

'I'm afraid I'm going to have to suspend you for two weeks, and I don't want you anywhere near Thames House, do I make myself clear? She told Dimitri. 'You go with him, I'm putting you on compassionate leave,' she told Beth. 'There's a launch and divers at your disposal if you need them, but I'm guessing that you'll want to go it alone.'

They were in the meeting room, just as they had been on the day when Mace had dropped the bombshell. Callum the only member of her core staff that had been there in their absence, wondering what she had in store for him?

'You're going to have to stay here and help me carry on with the day to day running of the grid.' Was exactly what he wanted. Not that he wouldn't have liked to spend the time with his colleagues, but he'd be much better employed here. Having spent a frustrating two days tied to his desk, now that she was back and, if he could convince Erin that his trips into the archives were because he was dealing with routine, rather than digging into Harry's recent past and beyond, he might find some answers. A sneak preview had revealed row upon row of boxes. Going as far back to the days when he'd still been in short trousers.

* * *

It had been over two years since Dimitri had been on water of any kind, but part of his training had been how to organise a search and rescue mission. As he'd risen through the ranks in the SBS, he'd covered almost every circumstance, apart from wrestling with sharks for fun, as Ruth had once joked. Not that he wouldn't be prepared to do it now, if it meant they could find Harry alive. A now much calmer Beth, was just glad that Erin seemed to be recognising her existence. That she had two weeks with Dimitri, answerable to no one but themselves, in which they could do whatever it took to find out what had happened to Harry, and that Dimitri was suggesting that she move in with him for the duration, was making her reconsider her decision to resign.

'You do realise that this is going to be a bumpy ride?' Dimitri told her, as they stood in a dingy little office at the Ministry of Transport in Whitehall, waiting for copies of charts of the Thames. Ones that would indicate all the regular traffic that travelled its length and breadth every day. Barges that relied on the river to transport their goods across the capital and beyond, pleasure boats by the dozen, and in the quieter reaches, once you got out towards Henley and Marlow, private moorings and boathouses by the dozen. Belonging to citizens who had money, so might or might not be co-operative, when they were asked if they could search the boundary of their properties.

'It's not unlike air traffic control working here,' the bespectacled young wanna be, who'd been assigned to dig out the paperwork, told them. Despite being shown their identity cards and knowing who they were, he obviously hadn't grasped the concept of authority, that working for the security service carried. 'You won't be able to rush your task, because you'll have to obey the rules of the river, unless you get lucky of course.' Was not only so obvious as to be laughable, but an ill-advised comment. But then he wasn't to know who they'd be searching for, and presumably handed out permits like this without question. Either way, neither of them rose to it. 'We may require you to work at night, when things are quieter and you'll need to liaise with me at all times, he continued,' handing them a wadge of maps in plastic covers. _Anything you say sunshine _thought Dimitri, indicating to Beth that it was time to leave.

The maps were detailed, with dozens of symbols that he recognised at a glance. Bridges where the river changed direction, areas of the river where there were strong currents, the potential for a build-up of traffic, structures and beaches. Finding Harry's body would at least bring an end to this nightmare, whereas if they didn't, which they both knew was the most likely scenario, then they'd have to accept it and move on. It's what they'd all been trained to do, what Harry had instilled in them. Presumably having faced it dozens of times in his own career. But it wasn't that easy, not this time, because it was Harry himself and the memories that they'd be burying.

'You go to bed,' Dimitri told Beth, when she yawned. Having already pointed to the bathroom, on his way to showing her where his spare bedroom was. He'd slept in the interim, she clearly hadn't and she'd be no use to him if she was tired when they left home at four the next morning. Essential as it was the moment when the tide was set to turn. He needed her as a second pair of eyes and to be back to what he considered to be her 'sassy' self again. He'd been offered this chance to really prove himself, and Erin for whatever reason, was giving Beth a second chance as well.

But despite Beth being tired, she couldn't sleep. Her mind going over and over those days when she'd first moved in with Ruth. When temporary had moved on into permanent, that had eventually suited them both. Her ditsy and out at all hours, whereas Ruth had been steady and resilient. Head hunted by Towers, but never really leaving the lure of Thames House. Tied to Harry by an invisible string, both emotionally and when he'd needed her to do something that was work related. Almost always having to lie to Towers about where she was, risking her job for the man that she was in love with, and so obviously loved her. God what would Ruth be feeling now if she'd been here to witness this? Except that it wouldn't have happened, would it? Were they really facing the end of an era and life without either of them? It seemed so. She hammered her pillow for the umpteenth time, before she turned over and attempted to count sheep. Eventually falling asleep and dreaming about tiny ships and giant fish, leaping out of the water in an attempt to sink them.

* * *

He hopes that he's thrown them enough curved balls to keep them guessing. Deeply regretting, that Dimitri and Beth, for reasons that quite probably he will never be able to explain to them, need to be kept in the dark. Erin and Callum not so much. He's never had the same bond with them. The problem with killing himself, or in this case not killing himself, is that it will invariably throw up more questions than it does answers, and if nothing else, he knows that his team are tenacious. Time and pressure of work, being the only things that will prevent them from pursuing this for any length of time. Hopefully sooner rather than later. If they do find out that he's still alive, or more likely guess, then he hopes that they'll forgive him and buy into his lie. Trust, if not understand, that it has to have been something monumental that has driven him to take such action, and will take his secret to their graves.

Because this had taken him just four weeks to set in motion, but one hell of a year in which to survive. A year during which, up until now, he's had to reign in his over-riding emotions, to enable himself from doing something stupid. To cut and run to the place where he's now heading. Virtually playing out a game. One where he's had to rely on his experience and the support of just two people. To uphold the charade and to convince himself, that he's able to trust people outside of his own team. William Towers, with whom no matter how tenuous, they'd had a connection and more recently a deep respect, and Alec White, because despite all his initial doubts about him, he's a good man and had proved himself to be worth his weight in gold, in not so dissimilar circumstances.

All this brought about, by what had looked to be an inoffensive enough envelope, containing a single sheet of paper.


	4. Chapter 4

Erin was right in her assumption that Dimitri and Beth would want to go it alone. Harry had been theirs in life. Ever present until now. Not the property of some unknown, who if they found him, would see him as a body to be picked over and then disregarded. Which was why, if this _was_ going to be the bumpy ride that Dimitri had suggested, Beth was determined she'd cope. That was until he was standing at the helm and switched on the ignition. Causing the prow of the boat to lift out of the water, as soon as they moved forward. The embankment now high above their heads, and more so the bridges. Dark and foreboding, without the splendour and variation that spanned the Thames, supporting the thousands of pairs of feet that crossed it every day. But it was the width of the river and how fast the current was flowing, that was most grabbing Beth's attention. That and trying to keep her balance. A totally different perspective that really shouldn't have surprised her, but did. The searchlight on the boat, attracting the attention of anyone who was out walking that early in the morning. Lighting up the water, as it swept in an arc in front of them.

'Remember to keep to the right of any approaching traffic,' the numpty who Dimitri had done his best to ignore, had called after them. Not that they intended going anywhere near the river traffic. It was the banks and the small unattainable reaches for the larger vessels, that they planned to search first. Along with the need to circumnavigate the bridge arches. Starting, Beth now realised, under the bridge where Harry had jumped. Callum had been right in his assessment. Harry couldn't possibly have jumped from the spot that the tape indicated. Was it possible that he'd edged his way along until he was clear of the pillars? Six in all, metres apart, spanning one of the widest parts of the river. Their concrete supports just as Callum had described them, ominously large. But between them an unmistakable concrete shelf. Just wide enough for someone with good balance to edge along.

Two more bridges negotiated and they could see Thames House and next to it the Shard. From their vantage point, they looked connected. Like some ocean-going liner that had been beached in a storm, tied to a giant metal stake. Lights shining at random from its huge façade. Indistinguishable one from another as to which floor they might be on.

'Are Callum and Erin already at work? Is Mace looking out over his kingdom?'

'Not a chance,' Dimitri yelled back at her. 'They'll all be safely tucked up in their beds.'

Moving forward towards Westminster Bridge, Beth realised that they were now on the stretch of river, where not so long ago she'd helped Harry prevent a terror attack. The one which had brought her into the fold. At time when he and Ruth had been struggling to communicate, for whatever reason. The embankment was better lit here and she could clearly pick out several figures. People going to work, or returning from a night shift, as Big Ben struck six and with it, the sun due to rise in less than half an hour. Only now becoming aware that her stomach was starting to object to her surroundings and to the motion of the boat. Hadn't the Thames supposedly been 'cleaned up' from the days when everything, including sewage had flowed into it? Because it certainly didn't smell clean, when you were this close to the water and the rubbish that the citizens of London threw into it. Dimitri seemingly oblivious to her distress as he concentrated on negotiating the central pillar, whereas she, who was usually quite capable of keeping the contents of her stomach where it was supposed to be, close to losing it. Big boats were one thing, they tended to go in a straight line, whereas this felt like an out of control roller coaster that was about to leave the rails.

* * *

Contrary to what Dimitri believed, Callum had stayed on the grid all night. He was one of those people, who not unlike Ruth, when they got an idea in their head, had to pursue it at once and not let it fester. For all the evidence that they'd gathered, he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Harry had killed himself. Not that he disbelieved the tape. It had clearly been Harry standing on that bridge. But his gut feeling, was that for some reason or other, Harry had needed to be seen to die, when in reality he had simply wanted to disappear. Which brought up two questions. He was either running away from or towards something, or someone. He suspected the latter. Harry as far as he knew, had never run away from anything in his life. Dimitri and Beth might not think all that much of him as an analyst, or a person even and yes, he hadn't known Harry for as long as they had. But that didn't mean that he didn't care. The events of the past two years had been tragic, but whatever anyone thought or said about Harry, he could never be described as the coward that Mace had suggested. It simply wasn't true.

The hours he'd spent in the archives had been helpful, in that they'd given him a lot of information about Harry's past life and his twenty or so years in the service. Including the names of people who had been and were potentially still his enemies. The Irish stemmed from decades ago, the Russians – past and present in huge numbers, the CIA at times, but none more so than Mace. In terms of his recent past and who Harry would have wanted to run to, there was only one name that kept popping up. Ruth. What he hadn't realised until now, was that she'd been involved in some way or other in almost everything that Harry had ever touched over the past seven years. Oliver Mace, had clearly been culpable for her leaving the country for a period of over two years, but if you read between the lines, the reason for her leaving, had been to save Harry, not herself. In the interim, Adam Carter and Ros Myers seemed to have featured highly, as had Lucas North who he'd known. But they were all long gone. Which brought him back to Ruth's return from Cyprus, which again had been heart breaking. Yet here again, she and Harry had somehow managed to weather the storm. Which was strange, because it was at this point that the records, for whatever reason, came to an abrupt halt.

Not that he couldn't fill in the rest himself. She and Harry had found their way back together, and then his supposed ghastly ex-mistress had turned up on the scene. Jim Coaver had been killed and against orders, they'd saved Harry from extradition, only to find out that he'd been set up. Put this all together, with first Mace and then Eleana, and Harry and Ruth had never stood a chance. Were Ilya and Sasha still implicated in some way, he had no idea at this stage? What he did know was that he was a good analyst and he trusted his own instincts.

* * *

_Thirteen months earlier, two hours after Dimitri had gone home. Suggesting to Harry that he should go to bed, but instead he'd headed for the river._

His first instinct had been to reach for his whisky bottle and drink himself into a stupor. But somehow through the pain, he'd seen Ruth's face and heard her voice. Not as he'd last seen it, white and lifeless, but telling him that he had to go on. At a time when their relationship had been going through a difficult patch. Soon after Lucas had died and when Towers had been trying to persuade her to leave Thames House. The day when they'd sat beside the river and he'd told her that didn't want her to get caught up in what was to come. How she'd challenged him head on. Telling him what he'd eventually reacted to, that people didn't love each other to on a need to know basis. How despite Eleana and how she'd tried to manipulate them, he and Ruth had found a way. Only for Ruth to pay for it with her life.

So when the call had come, his first thought was that it was some sick or cruel bastard that had wanted to hurt him further, as if that were even possible. Ilya Gavrik, who had ridiculed him in his own home, with his talk of a wife and a son and a bloody tortoise in the garden. Well the boot was on the other foot now wasn't it, because he didn't have a wife and, as for wanting a tortoise – not in a million years. But it wasn't Ilya or Mace, or someone from HR that he'd never heard of, wanting to talk to him about a memorial service and telling him what he already knew. That Ruth had been a beautiful soul, who he'd never be able to replace. It was a woman who was telling him that they'd been trying to call him for hours, but that his phone had been switched off.

He'd long since stopped running, but in that moment, somehow his legs had done as they were told, as he'd raced back to his house, blinded by tears. Stumbling up the stairs and along the landing to his bedroom. Tearing off his suit in the search of something more casual. Desperately throwing whatever he could lay his hands on in the way of clothing, sufficient to last him for a few days. Before grabbing his car keys, his wallet and re setting his alarm. Revisiting his bedroom, frantically searching for his wedding ring, that for whatever reason he'd kept after his divorce from Jane. Days that would start with him driving through the night like a maniac, ignoring all the cameras and breaking all the speed limits in the process. Praying all the while, that whoever the woman was that had spoken to him, had told him the truth. Stopping at York, to refill the car and to get something to eat and drink to recharge his batteries, or he'd have fallen asleep at the wheel. All the time, wondering why the hell he hadn't rung Dimitri and asked him to come back and go with him. The lad would have done it in a heartbeat.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time that Harry drove across the Tyne Bridge, with the bright lights of Newcastle in front of him, the rain was hammering down. As were his fingers, in a relentless tap, tap, tap on the steering wheel. According to his navigation system, he was within a couple of miles of where he was heading. Cursing the British weather and adding to his frustration, was that a helicopter had just flown low across the stream of traffic in front of him, presumably heading to the same destination. Why here, he'd asked himself, for almost the entire journey? If Ruth had survived, due entirely to Dimitri refusing to give up on her, why hadn't they kept her in London? In his rush to get back to the house, he hadn't listened properly.

Ignoring the fact that due to his lack of adhering to the speed limits, that he'd already picked up a year's worth of speeding tickets, he two wheeled it into the car park. Why was it, that hospital car parks, which let's face it, were designed to accommodate anxious relatives, always full? Made worse because when he slammed on his breaks, when he saw what surely must be somebody leaving rather than arriving, he narrowly missed being hit by the car that was following him. Narrowly avoiding being the contents of a metal sandwich, but bombarded with abuse from the other drivers.

Which was why, by the time that he was standing in reception for a second time, because in his panic, he'd misread the signs and had ended up looking at a ward full of people, who at his age he was still allowed to consider as elderly, he and his heart rate were out of control. With the worried receptionist, assuming that he's a patient, asking her colleague to fetch him a glass of water.

I'm fine and I apologise,' he told her, loud enough for the long queue that had formed behind him to hear.' I just need someone to tell me where I can find my wife,' he continued, turning the ring on his finger. Hoping that the pretence of being married will placate the masses and, that he'll get an answer that he understands. Reminding himself that these people are here to help him and to breathe, or he'll have the coronary that his doctor's been threatening him with. In which case he'll be no use to Ruth whatsoever.

His rescue finally comes in the form of a doctor, after what feels like an eternity of sitting on a plastic chair with his head in his hands. Can this man who looks like a twelve-year-old, really be qualified to be talking about the inner workings of Ruth's body and how despite what he'd thought, that she's still alive? Having left reception, they're now walking along what feels like an endless river of corridors. Signs everywhere that he's not bothering to read anymore. Passing the kitchen where against all expectation, the smell of breakfast cooking, is suddenly making him feel hungry. Alan his child companion striding in front of him, pointing towards a lift. One of those silent ones as it turns out, that feels as though it's not moving. Frustrating him even further.

Except, that compared to the chaos of the car park and reception, when the lift doors do open, onto what he's told is the critical care unit, it's into an oasis of calm. Two what he assumes must be heli-med doctors, looking more like fireman than pilots, in their bright red and yellow uniforms, are writing up notes in a side room. The ward sister who glides by almost soundlessly, tells him that she'll be with him in a moment, until a much younger nurse arrives and asks him if he'd like a cup of tea or coffee.

'He'll have a coffee,' he tells nurse whatever her name is, having been assured that there isn't a problem. Ruth's medication is being adjusted and he'll be allowed to see her in a moment.

As he's guided into what is labelled as the relative's room, it's only now that he remembers that he's listed as Ruth's next of kin. Something that Adam had organised when she'd gone to Cyprus – just in case.

'That's why they've called him. What they hadn't realised until now, is that she has a husband. Which explains why he's so worried.'

Not that it prevents them from wasting what he considers to be more bloody time, by asking him to fill in a couple of forms. Her full name and address and her date of birth, he sails through, the rest he makes up. Malcolm can always be relied upon to change things if needs be.

He has a question of his own. 'Why is she here, as opposed to being in London. Lying in the morgue, waiting for a formal identification, is no longer relevant.

'He obviously hasn't heard that there's been a major accident on the motorway near Heathrow and that the casualties are taking up every inch of space available in London hospitals.'

'No he hasn't.'

'Is he aware that certain hospitals specialise?'

'Maybe? He can't remember. But how does this relate to Ruth?'

'Because of your wife's pregnancy sir.' Is followed by what feels like an inordinately long pause. During which, through the haze that's now enveloping him, he hears her telling him that Ruth probably doesn't know, because they haven't been able to find any records, that suggest she's been seen by a doctor. It's early days, somewhere between three or four months. That Ruth's had a scan and that despite the trauma, she and the baby are both doing well.

'Ten more minutes and then you'll be able to see her.' He's told. Ten minutes during which he thinks back to the afternoon when this baby, his and Ruth's baby had been conceived. In was on the day when he'd asked Eleana to meet him at a safe house. The day when she'd asked him to kiss her. How he'd felt violated and had refused. Then as soon as she'd gone, he'd called Ruth and asked her to meet him. Desperate to put the past as he'd remembered it behind him, he'd finally told her how he felt, and somehow or other they'd ended up in a hotel room. Despite what Beth might have thought, it had been their first and only time. Both of them needing and wanting the other. The sex had been incredible. The best he'd ever had, he remembers thinking. Ruth hadn't needed to go back to the Home Office, so they'd ended up staying overnight. Ridiculously happy. Him getting into work late the next morning, although no one had commented. That it would result in them having a baby in just six months from now, never occurring to either of them.

'Is he surprised?' The nurse is asking him. Surely his face is conveying that he is?

'Is he pleased?'

'I've loved Ruth for as long as he can remember.' He hears himself telling someone who let's face it is a complete stranger. Maybe that's why he's finding it so easy? Anything else, is interrupted by the arrival of the ward sister, who tells him that she's called Rebecca. 'That he isn't to worry about anything that he sees and that Ruth and the baby are absolutely fine.' _That's two people who have told him, so it must be true._ 'Because it's less than forty-eight hours since her surgery, we're still keeping her under sedation. It's being managed differently because she's pregnant,' she continues, as she guides him along the corridor and into the room to where Ruth is lying. He doesn't bother to ask her why she'd said 'differently'. He's too busy trying to stop his hands from shaking.

Until there she is, lying as still as when he'd last seen her. Except that this time her chest is rising and falling in an even rhythm, something that causes his legs to buckle beneath him and a chair to be put behind him.

'I'll bring you a drink of water and then leave you on your own for a while,' Rebecca tells him as he inches his chair closer to Ruth. 'Hold her hand.' She tells him, obviously noticing that he's at a loss as to what he can or can't do. All around him, monitors are recording the second by second condition of their patients, but he's oblivious. There's only one person that he wants to concentrate on and to tell her that he's sorry she's had to go through this on her own. That he should have been here earlier and that he loves her. Magnified a hundredfold, when Rebecca returns with his water and hands him the blurred picture of their baby. A miracle that will bind him and Ruth together for the rest of their lives. Indistinct through the tears that are now falling, but definitely alive and well.

How will he and Ruth cope with a baby that will eventually grow to be a child? Demanding at any age, he's been there before. He knows to his cost how difficult this can be.

'It will be different this time.' He promises her.

* * *

Ruth is into her third day of recuperation, although she barely remembers anything about the helicopter being diverted to where she now lies, or what has happened to her since. On and off she's been dreaming. All drug induced dreams that involve her being with Harry. The first is where she's standing on the dockside and kissing Harry goodbye. Him wanting to tell her that he loves her, but she's stopping him. A huge blank until she's with Harry again. They're walking into the Russian reception, where Ilya, Sacha and Eleana are standing in a huddle together, pointing at them and laughing. Harry's telling her to ignore them. When she's in pain, she steels herself against it. She wants to see Harry's face and to hear his voice. Has anyone bothered to tell him where she is, and if they have, why isn't he here with her? Has he run a mile? Nobody's told her that she's pregnant, or she doesn't think that they have, but through the fog that keeps engulfing her, she's heard people talking. How could she not have known? Is the first question that she's going to ask them when she wakes up.


	6. Chapter 6

His persistence eventually paid off, so for the best part of the week, Ruth had enjoyed the peace and quiet of a private room. Days when she'd spent most of her time sleeping, but when she'd been awake, had listened to Harry chatting away about his hopes and his dreams. Dreams that had always been about the two of them, now three. Away from the suffocating atmosphere of intensive care, where the other patients and their loved ones, or not in some cases, faced a far longer period of uncertainty than they did, Harry had become a fixture. Only going back to his hotel room to shower and to sleep. One of the chains that seemed to pop up anywhere where they thought they could make a profit. Just across the road from the hospital in this case. Succeeding in staying with Ruth each evening, until way beyond the time that the visiting hours normally ended, having not surprisingly and _figuratively speaking_, charmed the pants off the nurses.

But behind the façade that he was Ruth's husband, something that he would have dearly loved to be true and fully intended to make real, was that he had to go back to London. Something that Ruth was struggling with. No longer the tough and capable Ruth that had coped with their numerous partings over the years, but a four-month pregnant and weepy Ruth, who was unable to hide how she was really feeling. Until as always, the moment that neither of them could avoid arrived.

He needed to talk to Towers and to organise some extended leave. To tell him that he was going to leave the service as she'd asked him, and to sort out the period that he'd be required to work his notice. Hopefully not long, as he had years of credit in terms of holiday. In the short term, two weeks at the most, he was going to discuss with Erin how the grid should be run in his absence. Then he'd be back again. Definitely well before Ruth was going to be discharged at the end of the month. The question as to where they were going to live, because it was ridiculous for them live separately anymore, just one of the things that they were talking about as they stoically held back the tears.

The inevitable 'I have to do this', was for the last time he told her.

Despite sleeping on the hour-long flight, he was still wired when he walked out of the airport, to be met by Dimitri. Knowing that he had to school what he knew to be a smile that had lived on his face, from the moment that Ruth had opened her eyes and asked him if he was real. For the moment at least, the news that she was alive was private. It was theirs. It was what they'd agreed. Tomorrow when he went back onto the grid, or in the days that followed, depending on whether or not Ruth was still happy for people to know, then he'd tell them. For the moment, he was still a man that was grieving and had needed some time away.

Give him his due, Dimitri didn't question where his car was, or expect him to engage in anything more than a mundane conversation. He hoped that the others would be as considerate. That they'd let him be. Before he told them that for the first time in his life, he intended taking his allocated time off, and when he did, that it wouldn't raise too many questions. That Ruth was pregnant, and certainly until she had her next scan in a few week's time, was for another day.

That was until Dimitri dropped him off and he opened his front door. Picking up the envelope and walking through to his kitchen. To make himself a drink and to ring Ruth, as he'd promised her he would.

'_One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and four for a _boy' was typed in one single line, with a tear drop at the end. No matter how many times he read it or scoured the envelope for a clue, there was nothing. Other than him knowing that this wasn't a message of congratulations. That this was a threat.

'I miss you too,' he told Ruth. 'Yes, the flight was on time. I'm going to get something to eat and then I'm going to go to bed,' he promised her. Before collapsing into a chair.

* * *

When Alec White received Harry's call at six am, to be asked if he was busy, he was tempted to repeat his comment of a year ago, that didn't he know what the time was and was Harry taking the piss? Except that Harry's previous call to arms, had not only bailed him out and allowed him to clean up his lifestyle, but the money that he'd been given during the Albany affair, was long gone.

'Was he interested in working for Harry in a private capacity if he paid him at the going rate, for however long it took?' Was ambiguous to say the least, until it was followed by, 'I could really do with a friend at the moment Alec, and it has to be someone from outside of the service.' Which made him think that just maybe, it might be worth the bus fare and the offer of breakfast with Harry. Even if it was in a very low end of the market café in a back street.

'I'll need time to have a shower and get dressed, I'll see you in an hour.' He told him.

'You'll see me in forty-five minutes, or I'll find somebody else.' And he'd cut himself shaving and had to run to catch the bus.

Any thought that Harry had been exaggerating his need for help, rapidly disappeared as he weighed up Harry's mood. Working his way through what was described as 'a man size breakfast' while Harry picked at his toast. He looked haunted, exactly as he'd looked on the day that John Bateman had snatched _whatever her name was,_ threatening to kill her. And he sure as hell hadn't slept. Hence the early call. His instinct told him, that whatever the problem was, that he should shut up and wait for Harry to speak. Which when he did, was masked out by the rattle of cutlery on plates and the noise from the radio, blasting some god-awful music.

Beginning by telling him about his decades of association with the Gavriks, right up until the moment that Ruth,_ that was her name,_ had been stabbed by Sacha. Harry went on to tell him that he'd assumed that it had been and accident and that Sacha's real target had been him. Whereas now, he was absolutely certain that it had been intentional and calculated to destroy him. Something that Alec could well believe, when Harry's whole demeanour changed, moving the conversation on to the here and now and producing the envelope.

He'd known since their previous association, that Harry had been prepared to risk his career to save Ruth. But it wasn't until he produced a copy of the scan, that he realised that the baby in question was Harry's.

Was Harry pleased? he didn't have to ask, so impassioned was Harry's response to his silence.'I will protect Ruth and our child, no matter what it takes,' meant what though? That Harry was contemplating murder? One that he wanted him to commit?

* * *

From William Towers point of view, going into work every day since Ruth had been killed, hadn't been nearly as pleasant as it had been when she'd been around. She'd been a breath of fresh air as far as he was concerned and a bloody good adviser and he'd been genuinely fond of her. In a fatherly way he'd convinced himself. Harry would have rung his not inconsiderable neck if it had been anything more than that.

Added to which, although there was no doubt in his mind, that Harry was an irritating interruption who could run rings around him, and from time to time ruined his breakfast. He had a huge respect for him. He'd meant what he'd said. He _was_ truly sorry about what had happened. Which was why, when he walked into his office on this particular morning, to see Harry looking as though he was living in his own private hell, he kept his silence. Five minutes later, telling his secretary, that even if the Queen herself rang, that he wasn't to be interrupted.

'Anywhere you want to go or anything that you want to do, you only have to ask.' Harry quoted his own words back at him. Hadn't included him disposing with Ilya and Sacha Gavrik. Not in the literal sense, Harry assured him and a very relieved Alec. Back to Russia by whatever means, just wasn't possible. The government's relationship with the Russians was still tenuous, but essential until the current talks were concluded. It wasn't in the country's interest to deport one of Russia's top politicians, even if his wife had been a traitor. Unless Harry had irrefutable proof that Sacha had intentionally wanted to kill Ruth. On impulse or otherwise.

That Harry intended to take matters into his own hands and without the backing of his team, didn't surprise him. Harry had always been a law unto himself. But that he wanted him to collude in whatever he had planned, and that what he was about to tell him, couldn't go beyond those four walls, he wasn't so convinced about. That was until Harry produced the letter.

That a pregnant Ruth, and by the way the child was definitely Harry's, was alive and needed to be kept safe, no matter what, he agreed with whole heartily. How could he not. Or that Harry intended using Alec, who if he didn't happen to be around at any time, as his spokesperson. That they didn't intend implicating him in any way, other than Harry would require his backing to be _missing_ from time to time, he could hardly refuse.

'Why wasn't he telling his team?' His only question. The fewer people that knew at this stage the better. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, but an unintentional misplaced word, and the consequences didn't bear thinking about.

'At some time in the future you'll receive a letter from me.' Harry told him as he stood up to leave. 'I trust that when the time comes, that you'll treat it as confidential and after what I've told you, you'll read between the lines.' Towers didn't understand for one moment. So other than asking Harry to give his best wishes to Miss Evershed and to tell her, that he hoped that at some time in the future once he'd been bundled out from his current post, that he might see her again. He just nodded and shook Harry's hand.


	7. Chapter 7

'I'm not sure that I could settle here, Alec told Harry. In a voice that suggested he was comparing the Northumberland Coast with London and by doing so, was completely missing the point.

Four weeks he and Ruth had been separated, but with Harry duties at Thames House temporarily sewn up, thanks in no small part to Towers, they'd driven back to the north east in Alec's car. Sitting outside in a pub garden overlooking the sea, they were enjoying a pint of the pub's best with their lunch, before Harry went to collect Ruth from the hospital and left Alec to get used to his new surroundings.

We do and that's all that matters, thought Harry, spearing the last of his chips. Wondering how anyone could look at the view in front of them and not be mesmerised. Tempted to tell him, but erring on the side of being the better person by keeping silent, that he needed to remember, that in the short term, he was getting well paid for the privilege of staying here to look after Ruth and, that this beautiful coastline was anything but desolate. It was stunning.

How if Ruth had been sitting there with him, she'd be able to jog his memory. Tell him where and when he'd seen this beach before. Until he remembered, that as far back as the early sixties in the film Becket, that Henry the second and his cronies, looking like the knights of the round table, had galloped through the surf here. The horses being urged to go faster into the wind. Their tails flying out behind them, while their charges plotted to kill the Archbishop of Canterbury. How when all was said and done, the human race hadn't changed over hundreds of years. There had always been murdering bastards who'd needed to be brought to account.

Except that today and for the next three weeks, they weren't his concern. This was their time, his and Ruth's. To put down roots for their future and to talk about ordinary things. A future that would include them bringing up their baby. In a county where there were almost as many castles as there were houses. And blessedly fewer people.

The story that he and Alec had already told the postman, _so it was guaranteed to spread like wildfire, _was that Alec was Harry's brother in law who was widowed. That Harry was retiring soon, sounded better than I've got to stay in London for however long it takes to dispense with a couple of Russians, but in the meantime, that Alec would be staying with Ruth to help her settle in. Not a million miles from the truth, other than at the end his verbal job description, which Harry had laid on the line, was that if as much as one hair on Ruth's head got damaged, by him or by anybody else, that they'd never find his body.

Assuming that his wife liked it, they'd take it. Harry had told the beaming estate agent, who'd rushed off in search of the paperwork, that was now spread out on the table in front of him.

'Yes of course they could rent it immediately, for however long they wanted to.'

'With a view to buying it at the end of the tenure?'

'Absolutely.'

It might not be the house with the peeling green painted door, that Ruth had been dreaming of buying. But in the current situation, living anywhere that was within touching distance of London was impossible. The view _was_ over the same body of water, just a few hundred miles further north than Suffolk. That, and the hospital insisting that they were better qualified than anywhere else in the country, to see Ruth through the remaining months of her pregnancy and the birth of their baby. Plus check-ups afterwards, which thanks to Sacha's ministrations, she'd need for at least a year.

'Seaview' as the house was appropriately, or perhaps rather obviously named, had up until then, been used by its owners during the summer months, until they'd swanned off to Spain for the winter. Now wanting to stay in Spain on a permanent basis, they were keen to see it pay its way. Four square and built to withstand the biting wind that roared in from the North Sea in the winter, but in the summer, offered mile upon mile of almost pure white beaches, did in Harry's opinion, give him and Ruth everything and more besides. Apart from each other. For as long as it took until he was convinced that whoever had written the letter, was no longer a threat. Something that at this moment, he and Ruth had agreed to ignore. One step at a time, which had seen him booking an appointment with the agent for the following morning.

'I'll see you later then,' he told Alec. Throwing in for good measure, 'enjoy the view,' before heading to his car. Trying, but failing not to run in his eagerness to see Ruth.

Divorced after he'd lost his job at five, Alec White, had by his own admission, let himself dwell in self-pity. Which by the time that Harry had turned up on his doorstep the first time, had seen him bordering on complete destruction. Destined to be bitter about his treatment by the service and by five in particular, he'd had no axe to grind with Harry. Which was why him drinking heavily, had now become an occasional drink and although he'd never contemplate working for the services again on a permanent basis, Harry's unconventional offer of a job, had intrigued him. Besides which he like Harry and was looking forward to reacquainting himself with Ruth. Their previous meeting had been a brief one and under extreme pressure. He remembered the heightened tension on the grid with 'my turn' whatever that had meant, bouncing between them. It wasn't as though Ruth was a stunner or a head turner, so what was it about her that was persuading Harry to leave the job that he had chained himself to for the best part of twenty years? Harry was a crusader, a protector and up until now had been a loner like him. But he was pretty sure that this relationship had an unbreakable bond, that went far deeper than her expecting his baby. Which Harry, despite his age, seemed delighted about.

Six weeks in a hospital room where the lights were never less than dimmed, and Ruth would have run out of the building if legs hadn't felt so shaky. As it was, she felt like a very elderly prisoner who'd been offered their freedom, as she and Harry walked slowly away from the forecourt. Her arm linked through his to support her. To be out in the fresh air again was wonderful, as was the opportunity to re envisage a future where they'd be together. One in which she and Harry above all else, would be able to share a bed and make up for all that lost time, during the probable endless sleepless nights once the baby arrived. Home, providing that they liked the house, could start tomorrow. Without interruptions, from someone who wanted to take her temperature, or tell her that they'd come to take her to another physio session.

It didn't matter that it was going to be different from the first time that they'd slept together. Carried away in the moment and a desperate need, had been earth shattering and beautiful. Something that she'd played over and over again in her head as she'd lain there, counting the days and weeks until Harry could come back for her. Nights when she'd talked to the baby that she was now carrying and wanted more than anything. Telling him about his daddy and how much she loved him and he loved them. In less than two-days, the question as to whether he was a boy or a girl would be answered and the debate as to what to call him, or her if Harry got his way and he was a she, could begin.

'Alec's staying at the pub whilst I'm here. I'm not sharing you with anyone.' Harry told her, interrupting her thoughts by opening the car door for her. People hurrying past them. Proof as if she needed it, that their relationship had moved on in leaps and bounds since that one amazing afternoon, he lent in and kissed her. The world watching on.

Not known for his careful driving, once they left the main road and joined the coast road, Harry killed his speed. Not that he'd driven over the limit since they'd left the hospital. It was just that he wanted to see Ruth's reaction, not only to the view, but the sheer size of the coastline. What he hadn't expected so quickly, but wasn't surprised by, was her tears. Despite her putting on a brave face, this wasn't just a reaction to what had happened. She was also pregnant and extremely tired. Well on the way to making a full recovery, the doctor had told him, but her pregnancy was going to slow things down. That he'd have to be very careful and not get carried away, suggesting that they did this or do that. But to play it by ear and make sure that she didn't tell him she was fine when she wasn't. In these three precious weeks, it didn't matter to him what they did or didn't do, or at what speed. They were together. Nothing else mattered.

'Yes please, they would like their dinner in their room,' he told their landlady, when she greeted them at the front door. Already briefed when he'd booked it, that his wife who was pregnant, would be tired after the long journey, she'd already grabbed the small bag that he'd been carrying.

The rest of Ruth's things that he'd collected from her house were in the boot of her car, packed in boxes.

It was still light, when Ruth who had been getting progressively more tired, was persuaded to go to bed. Here, she alone was presented with a problem. It was impossible for her to get undressed without help. The help being Harry who had no such qualms. Ridiculous, given that they were having a baby together, which had come about by them both being naked in each-others company, she could feel herself blushing under Harry's scrutiny. There was nothing sexual about it, just him being patient, as he gently eased her top over her head, managing to avoid the scar. An action of true love in slow motion that heightened her need to have him touch her, but imagining that maybe he would go for a walk before he came to bed. Not a chance, he was with her in a moment, lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. Looking at her in the same way as he'd looked at her a hundred times over the years. The air heavy between them. She couldn't turn to face him, it was impossible. Another week she'd been told, and movement should become less difficult. But for now, she still needed to sleep on her back. The bump that hadn't been visible until recently and Harry had never seen, quite obvious now.

Very gently and with the tenderest of movements so as not to startle her. She watched as Harry's hand moved until it was hovering over the bump. His eyes asking the question. It was their first intimate physical contact of any significance since she'd been stabbed and it answered all of her questions. Would he be able to be there for her when their baby was born? The only exception.


	8. Chapter 8

Ruth woke up as she'd fallen asleep, with Harry's protective arm slung gently across her body. She felt safe and she felt loved. Which as wonderful as that was, presented her with a problem. It was pressing on her bladder. She needed to use the bathroom and she needed to use it now. Which meant that she had to wake him. She was also desperate to have a proper shower and to wash her hair. One that would rid her of the smell of the hospital and it's disinfectant. Another thing that she couldn't manage on her own and hadn't thought through. Caught up in the relief of finally being able to make her own decisions.

'Stop being such a bloody analyst,' she muttered. 'This is Harry for heaven's sake. The father of you baby. He'll help you. You got through yesterday evening without dying from embarrassment. Get a grip Ruth.'

'You worry too much.' Said a voice from the pillow next to hers.

She was tempted to tell him that she wasn't an invalid just temporarily a bit unsteady on her pins, but the look of pure concentration on his face as he helped her out of bed and then walked beside her, ready to grab hold of her if she wobbled, was similar to the way that he'd cared for her the previous evening. Not known for his patience, this was him offering her his unconditional love. As corny as that sounded in her head, it was what this was, as he proceeded to peel off her pyjamas. Revealing not only the fact that she was pregnant, but what was still a very ugly looking scar. She thought so anyway.

Facing up to the fact that she was now standing completely naked in front of Harry, open to the scrutiny that he was trying hard, but failing to hide, was difficult. But a fairly unique way for the final barriers to come down in their relationship. Having no option, other than to do as she was told, she let him put his arms around her and help her into and then out of the shower. Before he helped her to get dry and dressed. That done, he jumped into the shower himself and then walked back into the bedroom where she was sitting, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. In other words, all bets were off. Without any sexual contact this time, they'd both seen each other as they'd surely been destined to do at some point, but in the most unconventional of circumstances. Neither of them had made a comment, other than him asking her if she was OK about a dozen times during the entire exchange, but she'd coped and that was all that mattered. What Harry had been thinking, he'd no doubt tell her later.

'How are we this morning?' asked their hostess. Opting for the royal we, by directing her question at Harry. Arriving with a pot of tea, the moment that they set foot in the dining room.

'Very well thank you, and yes please he would like the full breakfast that included toast.' Harry told her.

'And your wife?' Was another question entirely, as Ruth ordered scrambled eggs on toast, but couldn't fail to notice the expression on Harry's face and the wedding ring that was still determinedly on his finger. Maybe being pregnant rendered you speechless where Mrs. Munro was concerned? That or Harry's winning smile, that she suspected answered her question, and had little or nothing to do with the prospect of a cooked breakfast.

Once over and after another comment that he could get used to this, which again Ruth presumed quite rightly was Harry's new found belief that there was life after five, plus his recently unashamed view of her body, he packed their case, paid the bill and then drove them out of the village. As buildings were replaced by a view of the sea, Bamburgh castle on the headland, looked far more majestic from this direction, as did Holy Island and its causeway. All culminating in Ruth wondering if she really had died and gone to heaven. This might not be area or the house where she'd envisaged living with Harry, on the awful day when she'd asked him to leave the service with her. But at this moment, she would have agreed to live the rest of her life in a cardboard box if he'd asked her too, he was being so lovely. Naked encounters included.

* * *

Wanting to be sure that they wouldn't be disturbed, Harry had already wrung Alec and reeled off a shopping list that would keep him busy for the best part of the day. Which was why she and Harry, were now sitting alone in the small back garden at Seaview. Bordered by a low stone wall, with a gate that opened onto the sand, they had the keys. The house was theirs. Twenty metres back from the sand dunes and about a hundred meters further on was the shoreline. The rain that they'd woken up to had stopped and the sky was a brilliant blue. The Farne Islands made famous by Grace Darling felt almost touchable. Not known for their quick decision making, this one had been easy. Chalk from cheese, in no way could this house be compared to Ruth's cottage in Suffolk. But it had bags of potential and a happy Ruth was in home making mode again. Harry had made his mind up from the written details, the reality was even better. The décor was tasteful as were the fixtures and fittings. OK so it was a bit 'seaside orientated' in that there was a model lighthouse and a couple of gulls that were hanging from the bathroom ceiling. But with the extra rooms, there was plenty of room to store anything that they didn't like, until they were in a position to change it to suit them.

Having walked from room to room, neither of them had commented on the fact that there was a king size bed to be enjoyed when they'd opened the door of the main bedroom. But the inference had been there. What Harry _had_ commented on and Ruth had become emotional over, was his suggestion that he needed to re paint what they'd decided would be the baby's room. People kept on telling her that it was natural for her emotions to be all over the place during pregnancy. God knows what they'd have said if they'd known who she really was and what had led up to it? But it wasn't just that. This was Harry's baby. A baby that she'd never dreamed of having, but now wanted more than anything. So much so, that every very time he said or did something caring and so unlike the Harry that other people saw, which he'd been doing since the moment that he'd collected her from the hospital, she started to well up. It was a bugger being pregnant. So rather than do it and spoil the moment, she thought sod the bloody pain when she twisted or stretched, she'd ask him for a cuddle.

Harry had been obeying the rules to the letter where Ruth was concerned. The doctor had told him that any real exertion on her part, could set off a chain reaction which might see her recovery set back by weeks. More than that, it could be detrimental to the baby. That the layer upon layer of stitches between her rib cage would dissolve over time, but she'd know her own body and until she initiated it, even a lengthy kiss was off the menu. Very difficult to deal with when he'd seen her naked in the bathroom this morning. But Ruth and the baby were his priority, so his desires had been kept in check. Hard as that was, his brain had somehow clicked into a mode where the fact that she was sitting next to him was enough. Which was why he was surprised when she asked him to kiss her.

'We'll need to stand up.' Wasn't a problem. Him trying to keep the smile off his face was.

Letting Ruth set the pace, it wasn't deep. It wasn't passionate and it certainly wasn't lengthy. It was the gentlest of kisses. But to be able to hold her against him and breathe her in again in the peace and quiet of that garden, was enough to send his mind back to another day. A day that he'd been thinking about since he'd raced back upstairs in search of his wedding ring. The day when they'd been standing in a different garden. Leaning against the fence after Ros's funeral. A day when he should have kissed her as he was now, but on impulse he'd asked her the question that he so desperately wanted to ask her again. Where better than this he thought, just take it more slowly this time and tell her how you really feel.

If Ruth had known that Harry was going to pull back from the kiss and then ask her to marry him, who knows what she might have said or done. But she hadn't. Although it wasn't entirely unexpected and it _was_ what she wanted.

He'd walked her back to the bench and taken both her hands in his, before they'd sat back down. Then lifted her chin and asked her to look at him.

'I love you Ruth, everything about you and I always will.' Was the first clue as to what was coming. That and him fiddling with his ring again. At which point, it would have been so easy for her to have said yes and not let him finish. But to have interrupted him mid-sentence as she so often had, would have stolen his thunder, and Harry hadn't actually asked her yet.

'I've talked this through with Towers – not what I'm going to ask you, but I _am_ going to retire I promise you.' Confirmed it. 'I know that this isn't exactly where you had in mind for us to live together, but I think it's beautiful. As are you my darling.' He told her. In a voice that was steady and suggested that this time he was certain of her answer.

Except that Harry didn't usually go in for personal compliments and this was so unlike anything that Harry had said to her before, that all she could she could manage was 'Thank you.'

Until after a deep breath and apparently completely undaunted by her answer, 'I'm asking you to marry me Ruth, as soon as we can arrange it. Hopefully before I go back down to London if you'll have me.'


	9. Chapter 9

Even today which was at the weekend and when the car parks were guaranteed to be full, their nearest neighbours were no more than tiny specks in the distance. Lowry figures, on a beach that stretched for miles in both directions, where multiples of kites were being flown by by patient fathers. Brightly coloured beach balls and the odd game of cricket. To keep their children entertained while their mothers sorted out the picnics. Very sexist Ruth would have no doubt told him had she been watching, but she wasn't concentrating on what anybody else was doing. She was concentrating on him. Harry who had told her that she was beautiful, at a time when she felt anything but, so of course she'd said yes. Then to have received the confirmation that they'd been craving, had made it the perfect few days.

'Harry it's freezing,' came out more as a squeal than a statement, as she stepped back from the water's edge and left Harry to continue to practice his stone skimming skills. Born on November the first and a lover of anything that involved water, Harry had decided that Ruth paddling in the North Sea, always cold even in the height of the summer, was the perfect pre-arrival introduction to the water for baby Michael. That they were having a boy and that he was healthy and a good size for his just over five months, had been confirmed at her latest scan. Combined with another physio session when she'd been told that walking on the beach would do her a power of good and it had become a daily must do.

Three days on and her confidence was growing. Not that it meant that Harry wasn't still keeping a close eye on her. He'd never let her out of his sight and didn't intend doing so. These weeks were precious, with the countdown to him going back to London approaching far faster than he wanted it to. Which meant that every waking hour he was throwing himself into making Ruth happy. Apart from unfortunately failing to organise the wedding.

'It's the height of Summer sir, so unless we get a cancellation, I'm afraid I won't be able help you,' he'd been told. Not something that he was in a position to argue with, in a small village where he intended them living as an ordinary family. Newcomers who were expecting a baby and wanted to blend in. If they couldn't get married now, then he'd have to accept it and convince himself that there wasn't any real rush. Difficult to do when he knew what he was going back too and that if something happened to him, that Ruth wouldn't have the security that marriage would offer her. Not that this was the only reason that he'd asked her. He'd done it before and for the same reason. He'd loved her then and he loved her now and he'd dreamed of being Ruth's husband for as long as he could remember. A baby not so much, but now he was absolutely walking on air at the prospect of having another child.

Telling Catherine and Graham was the next step. Something that Ruth had told him he must do as soon as he could. Fireworks or congratulations, either way they'd get through it together as they always had. The Ruth that he loved more than life itself was back. Proof positive by her next action.

'Fish is good for you Harry, you know that,' she told him, adding to his already buoyant mood by handing him a plate of salad and something that looked suspiciously like sardines. Before delving back down into the basket and producing a bottle of water and two plastic glasses. It was such a far cry from their snatched lunches on the grid that consisted of sandwiches or sometimes nothing at all. This newly invented Ruth was hell bent on making sure that not only she, but Harry as well ate decent food for a change. Fresh fish was hard to come by in London, whereas along this coastline, smoked or otherwise, it was prolific. If Harry persisted in telling her that he'd been and still was a water baby, and that Michael was going to be one as well, then surely eating fish was part of the deal?

And yes it was lovely the way that he was giving her his undivided attention, but he needed looking after just as much as she did. 'Forsaking all others' wasn't in question. It was the 'For as was long as we both shall live' that she was working on and had every intention of being for a _very_ long time. Time enough for one or both of them to to do the school runs and beyond, but in the short term for her to get to know Harry's two older children, who had no idea that they had a new baby brother on the way. That they might have to cut the ties with their colleagues she'd accepted, but his family _never_. They were part of him, just as this new baby was.

* * *

_Which takes us back to the start of this story, when Harry realises that retirement isn't going to be an option. That he has to do the unthinkable._

Not known to be a lover of his annual psych assessment and having been conveniently missing when the previous two, or had it been three? Harry had been collared as soon as he'd walked back into Thames House. How long the wretched woman had been lurking in the foyer he had no idea, but there was no escaping her on this occasion, or her insistence that he lie down and answer her questions honestly.

That 'He looked quite well, all things considered. Did this mean that he was feeling any better?' He ignored. Par for the course or she'd rumble him.

That 'He'd been through a terrible trauma.' He readily acknowledged. It was the truth. 'Could he accept it and move on?'

'His job depended on it.' He lied to the face that was looking at him with such intensity. That he fully intended too. She didn't need to hear.

'Missing?'

'Ruth.' Was his honest answer. 'Longing for?' 'The same.' But with every breath in his body, he replaced with, 'A time when I can put an end to the torment of losing her.'

It was going quite well for a change. The questions were predictable and there was no point in lying about something that they all thought to be the truth. But it was how he dealt with what they _didn't_ know, that was causing a problem, as he closed his eyes and asked her if they could take a break for a moment.

'Don't fall asleep and don't you dare leave.' She told him. Closing the door behind her and leaving him on his own.

On the way in he'd called in to see Towers, only to be told that the situation with the Gavrik's hadn't changed and wasn't likely to. Not that he had any proof that it was one, or even both of them who had been threatening Ruth. It was just his instinct and he'd spent a lifetime surviving on those. Mace was the only other person, but he'd got the top job. Surely even a useless lump like him wouldn't be stupid enough to put his career on the line, to get his revenge for something that had happened so long ago? But whichever way he looked at it, it pointed to the fact that he needed to carry on with the pretence that Ruth was dead. That he was grieving and always would be. It also meant that straight forward retirement wasn't an option any more. He was on everybody's radar and if he retired it would be well publicised. Which meant that he had no other option than to disappear. But before he did that and no matter how long it took for him to arrange it, he needed to plead his case of wanting to take time off again. This time when the baby was born.

'Miss Watts is coping admirably, so take as long as you need Harry.' Towers had told him. Having assured him that he'd told no one that Ruth was not only alive but pregnant. Always sceptical when it came to politicians, he'd had no alternative than to trust Towers. Ruth did and so must he, she'd told him.

* * *

Catherine had been the lifeline that had kept him from doing anything irresponsible up until now. Shocked or surprised, he hadn't known which, as she'd laughed when he'd told her that he was going to be a father again. Horror or being judgemental hadn't come into the equation until the evening that she'd persuaded Graham to meet him at her house. By which time Catherine had firmly positioned herself as the arbitrator. He'd made the mistake of trying to take Graham's hand when he'd started shouting, which had only stopped when Graham had accidentally caught him a glancing blow when he'd been waving his arms about and calling him a dirty old man. Telling him that maybe this time he'd get a son that he could be proud of.

'Stop it Graham.' Catherine had said so forcefully, that he'd backed off and let her deal with her brother, who by now to his horror had tears running down his cheeks.

Over a takeaway and a couple of bottles of wine, Catherine had calmed things down and Graham had allowed him to tell him about Ruth. How over the years and with more traumas than any one person should have to cope with, and beneath the façade of being capable and able to survive anything, that Ruth was still the same gentle girl that he'd been in love with for the past five years. That the baby hadn't been planned, but that they were both happy about it and how it had been her idea that he should tell them.

That Catherine had briefly met Ruth during the time that her father had sent Danny to keep an eye on her, Graham hadn't needed to know.

'What does she look like, have you got a photo?' Had been Graham's only concession in maybe accepting what he'd been told, or maybe it was just curiosity? But Catherine who had been sitting opposite him, had silently urged him to respond positively.

Of course he had a photo. One that he'd taken on the beach, the day that Ruth had been forcing him to eat sardines. She'd been smiling at him, her hair glistening in the sunshine and her eyes bright with mischief. It had been such a wonderful day. A real breakthrough and he wanted to get a copy. To replace the one that he'd lost, soon after she'd gone to Cyprus and he'd never found. He handed Graham his phone. Praying for a reaction that didn't see him deleting what was irreplaceable.

'She looks nice.' Was better than nothing. It was a start.

A start that only three months later, resulted in Graham being persuaded to drive him up to the north east, when baby Pearce decided to make his entrance a month early.

'I'm at work Graham. Dad needs our help and it has to be you.' Catherine lied to her brother, hugging her father who was pacing around her kitchen and so obviously incapable of driving himself. Wishing it was her who was going with him, but seeing the bigger picture.


	10. Chapter 10

A reluctant travelling companion or a willing one, Harry was none the wiser when Graham arrived. Catherine hugging him and with a look of reassurance that it would be fine, whispering to give her love to Ruth, as they bundled him out through the door. Now faced with a three hour drive, with a son who he barely knew, he found himself rattling on about everything and nothing, in an attempt to blank out the fact that Ruth was going through childbirth on her own. Graham saying very little until he drove them into the hospital car park.

'Running's not going to help Dad.' He told him. Grabbing his arm and slowing down his progress. Ensuring that he didn't get hit by a car, but still causing its driver to slam on the breaks and swerve unnervingly.

The last time that he'd spoken to Ruth, was when she'd arrived at the hospital and told him not to worry and to drive carefully. Since then her phone had been turned off.

'Well it would be wouldn't it.' Graham had answered when he'd told him. A statement that Harry still wasn't able to make his mind about, as to whether it had been Graham's attempt at humour. Not that he'd asked him, or that it had helped, because by now he was frantic.

This time he didn't need to go via reception and cause an upheaval. He knew exactly where the Maternity Wing was. He and Ruth had been there so many times, that he could have got there with his eyes closed. That didn't mean that corridors that he knew like the back of his hand, didn't suddenly feel like a marathon that he to negotiate. Ignoring all the 'no running in the corridor' signs. Chuntering on that it was worse than being in school.

'Well go on then, I'll wait here.' Graham told him. When they eventually skidded to a halt and the sister told him, that it was a shame that he'd missed Michael's arrival. Michael who had apparently, 'popped out like a cork from a bottle in no time at all' he tried not to visualise. All he needed to know was that he and Ruth were both doing well and that he could go in and see them.

Well known even here, for blustering and barging his way into anywhere that he chose, Harry's legs deserted him the moment that he pushed open the door and saw Ruth nursing their baby. He'd spent the entire journey picturing her in pain and yet apparently it had been so quick as to be considered miraculous, given her previously injury. More than that they'd told him nothing, although it was clear to see that she and Michael were fine. This tiny little soul, that he knew was entirely dependent on them had his eyes closed, but not so Ruth, who was looking at him with such love in her eyes, that his legs finally propelled him forward until he was sitting on the side of her bed.

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry that he hadn't been there, but she stopped him. Instead insisting that all that mattered was that he was there now. It felt surreal to be leaning in and kissing her, more so because their son was lying quietly between them finishing his breakfast. So very tiny, Micheal had wispy hair, dark like his mother's. Not the wispy part of course, that when Ruth suggested that he should hold him, his hands suddenly felt too clumsy and too large. Until Ruth adjusted herself so that he could take him easily. At which point Harry felt as though his entire life had been built for this moment. As did Ruth, as she watched him lean in and gently plant a kiss on Michael's tiny forehead.

It was a further fifteen minutes before the door opened and the nurse asked them if Graham could come in. Harry had completely forgotten that he was out there and Ruth hadn't thought to ask him if he'd driven up on his own.

'He's brought you a cup of coffee sir and I'm guessing you'd like a cup of tea by now,' she told Ruth cheerily, who had never met Graham and certainly hadn't expected today of all days, to be the day when she'd finally meet Harry's eldest son. As much as she'd hoped that she and Harry would be able to spend the rest of the day without being disturbed, other than by Michael, she adopted what she hoped was a look of being pleased. Despite the prospect of there being three generations of Pearce males in the room, this was their day as a family and she _had_ been the one who had encouraged Harry to make peace with his other children. If Graham had driven all this way with Harry, then there had to have been a reason and as tired as she was, she needed to make an effort.

But if Harry had stalled briefly, then Ruth realised that Graham was rooted to the spot by comparison. In addition to him juggling two cups of coffee, presumably from a vending machine. Which if they hadn't already gone cold then they soon would do. He also looked to have bought two packs of what having not long had a baby, smelt like very dodgy sandwiches. By now Harry was totally absorbed in the new arrival, who in the space of a few minutes had wrapped one of his hands around Harry's finger. Which left Ruth who was struggling to tear her eyes away from them, holding another baby. This time Graham, who had started hopping from one foot to another and looked unnervingly like his father when he was stressed.

Silence in this case wasn't golden. Was Harry really expecting her to deal with Graham on her own? In which case, what was she supposed to say? She had no idea.

Until - 'He's been a nightmare on the journey. Worried sick.' Harry's eldest son told her. 'I'm Graham by the way and I'm very pleased to meet you,' he continued. Dispensing with his purchases on a side table, before finding his feet again and walking over to sit in the chair that his father had vacated and shaking her hand. Maybe it was the drugs that she'd been given to help her with her breathing, or just the euphoria of being a mother? But this all felt terribly formal and worse still funny. Harry, smiling like the proud father that he obviously was, appeared to be humming a nursery rhyme, so no help there then. Would it cause a problem if she told Graham to bugger off and asked Harry to climb into bed beside her? She imagined it would.

By the end of the week, a much more sober and grounded Ruth had been home for four days. Not that it was any quieter. In a house, where during the daytime she was surrounded by three men and a baby, it was just like the film. Except that in this case there was one man too many. Alec, as kind and as useful as he'd been wasn't family, whereas despite her earlier misgivings, Graham had been proving that he was trying to fit in to this new situation. Giving them space, when they needed it to come together as a new family. Especially in the evenings and at night, at a time when the days that she and Harry were going to be able to spend together, had a deadline that they were both struggling to cope with.

Although it was only the end of September, with Autumn had come a real drop in the temperature. There were fires that needed to be lit and kept clean. Furniture that still needed rearranging and mundane things like shopping on her own, that with a new baby, were things that Ruth didn't feel like facing with someone that she really didn't know. Which was why, with Michael wrapped up against the cold weather and with an insistent Harry pushing the buggy, the three of them were heading towards the village. Her having persuaded Graham to ask Harry the question. Could he stay on and keep her company, which would allow Harry to take Alec back down to London? To help him do whatever it was, that she now knew was going to bring him back to them for good.

Despite it being a huge leap of faith in Harry's eyes to trust Graham, she'd already persuaded him to say yes. She'd come to like Graham, there was no hidden agenda where she was concerned and it wasn't as though he had anything else to do with his time. Bringing up a baby, something that she'd never had to do before, in an area that she barely knew, would be much easier if she had someone that didn't remind her of her previous life, she'd told Harry. Graham was there, so why not? Harry had finally accepted.

They'd stopped outside a tea shop, one that Ruth had visited before with Alec. The lady who owned it, had made her promise to come in with her husband and to bring the baby when he arrived. Their cover was watertight as it was throughout the village. It was the first step to becoming part of the community where they planned on living as a family. More importantly from Ruth's point of view, this was Harry's first step into a life beyond Thames House. A step that despite everything that he kept telling her, she knew was going to be difficult.

* * *

They'd become experts in schooling their feelings over the years. But even experts had their breaking point. Time and tide wouldn't wait, there were no miracles about to happen. All too soon it was their last night and a countdown into the unknown. Something that this time, was proving to be almost unbearable. Neither of them had slept and not because Michael had woken up on three occasions, wanting to be fed. In the darkness of their bedroom as they clung to each other, with words of love and talk of a happy ever after, the certainty that Harry would come back to her in one piece and that she and Michael would be able to cope without him, had all but evaporated. They'd never been more together, but they'd never felt more lonely. Apart from the certainty of knowing that they loved each other and their little boy.

Both of them remembering but not saying, that on so many occasions in the past when they'd been torn apart, for far longer than what Harry was planning would be two months at the most, and definitely in time for him to be back for Christmas, that things had gone wrong. Which meant that it was two sets of red and bleary eyes that looked at one another as the sun came up and the clock ticked relentlessly forward. Michael now sleeping peacefully in his cot beside their bed, oblivious to the torment that his parents were going through, as Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed for the shower and Ruth to put the kettle on.

Knowing that in an hour's time, that Alec would be knocking on the door, ready to leave.


	11. Chapter 11

Ruth didn't need to wait for her nightly phone call from Harry, to know that he wouldn't be home in time for Christmas.

It was early in morning and she'd just walked into the kitchen carrying Michael. Graham who had already lit the fire was organising their breakfast. Part of the routine that she and Graham had slipped into since Harry had gone back to Thames House. Time which had extended into him asking her about the years that she'd worked with his father and how their relationship had developed, had been extremely positive or so she thought. Until now, when he turn on the TV the and turned to look at her, with an expression that made her feel as though she'd slipped back into another era.

'The police and security services will be at full stretch over the holidays, after the second attack in the space of two weeks, took place at a Christmas Market in Camden this morning.' The newsreader was saying. As pictures of a market place, with the remnants of clothing, food and people's belongings flooded the screen. Ambulances and people from the fire service and presumably somewhere in the background, her one time colleagues would be sifting through the rubble for clues. With Harry stuck in his office. Trying to field off questions about his teams capability and his in particular.

'It'll be the same for him the poor little beggar. Promises that he'll never keep.' Graham told her, in a tone that sent her already breaking heart plummeting. Nodding towards his baby brother, with a look that turned him into the damaged child from years ago.

Telling Graham the obvious, that Michael was a baby and not old enough to be missing his father, and she'd be shot down in flames. That none of this was of Harry's making and that it was why the security services existed, right though it was, would be patronising. Desperately fighting against the tears that were building and would only go to prove to Graham that he was right, Micheal saved the day. Perceptive or not to the way she was feeling, he started to cry.

'Just give me a moment,' she told Graham, walking towards the window and gazing out at the garden. Before burying her face in Micheal's hair and breathing in his gorgeous baby smell.

Both Graham and Catherine had been told that Harry intended to retire and that when he did, it would be kept out of the headlines. Purely and simply because he didn't want any fuss. When in reality and as drastic as his new plan was, the reason as always, was his overwhelming desire to protect the people that he loved. Not that she was in a position to tell Graham, when it was only her, Towers and Alec, who were privy as to why Harry had needed to go back at all. What he was planning, and in this case the how, it was only Alec who knew. All of which felt flaky in the extreme under Graham's intense stare. Still waters run deep she thought, and this one more than any. Graham's accusation had obviously been designed to see her reaction, to what was a reawakened criticism regarding his own childhood. One which gave her the options of either reacting straight away and defending Harry's motives, which would involve lying to Graham, or telling him the truth. Whichever way she played this, she needed to speak to Harry.

She was in the bath when Harry returned her call. Having strapped Michael into his buggy and persuaded Graham to take him for his morning walk without her. Telling him the truth, that she hadn't slept too well and couldn't he see that this latest news was just as upsetting for her as it was for him. He'd grudgingly accepted. It was bad enough that she was going to have to face Christmas without Harry, but if Graham's current mood continued, then god knows? A Christmas that they'd planned to include Catherine, a Christmas Tree that they'd decorate together and a trip into Alnwick and to the castle. To introduce Michael to Father Christmas and his reindeer and to grow together as a family, would now have to wait. Assuming that in the meantime that she would be able to get Graham to see reason, whereas Harry would receive a less hostile reaction from Catherine. Not for the first time, she felt as though she'd drawn the short straw.

'It's a bloody nightmare Ruth, I'm run off my feet. I'm so very sorry.' She knew to be true. Not that it made it any easier to hear. 'I love you and Michael more than anything in the world and I'm missing you.' Was so awful in it's beauty, that she couldn't find the words to reply. Plus with the speed that Harry was talking, it was obviously not going to be a long conversation. And it certainly wasn't the time for her to be adding to his misery, by telling him what Graham had said.

So 'I just needed to hear your voice and love you too.' She told him.

That he'd ring her tonight. Was a promise that he was able to keep.

That he'd be home before the end of the year. Was a promise that he couldn't make, but that he'd try, didn't happen. Made worse because it plunged them both into another year of uncertainty.

* * *

Planning and the executing a fake suicide had been far more complicated than Harry had envisaged. With a workload that had been relentless, he'd once again had to put his duty before his personal life. Yet somehow, despite the desperate longing and the fear that they'd both lived with, through the coldest of winters, he and Ruth had found a way to come through it intact. Forced to stay indoors, she'd built bridges with Graham. In no small way due to her persistence and the need to do something positive to pass the time. Whereas Harry, rather than going home to an empty house, had reverted to his old habits. Staying on the grid late into the night, their whispered declarations of love, had been the only thing that had kept them sane. Those and him managing to squeeze in a flying visit after Easter for her birthday. Although missing Michael's, had almost broken him.

Until now, when he was home for good and the last Christmas that had been abandoned before it had even started, was being resurrected to be better. The planned visit to Alnwick that had been cancelled, they'd decided to make into a joint venture. A belated birthday party so that Michael could see his beloved reindeer, combined with a family discussion about the wedding. Now re-booked for New Year's Eve.

Michael now fifteen months old was a happy and healthy little boy. Daddy was home so why wouldn't he be, Ruth had finally convinced Harry the previous evening, when he'd been crawling across the floor. With his son tottering in front of him in pursuit of a Christmas Tree decoration that she'd dropped and they'd watched bouncing towards the door. Michael who was now walking and causing havoc at every opportunity, had been giggling as Harry had pretended to catch him. All the better, because the three of them were on their own and it had been close to Michael's bedtime, when Harry would be reading Michael his bedtime story. One of the many things that Ruth had willingly relinquished, to help rebuild Harry's confidence.

But as much as this new found happiness together was enjoyable, they were on borrowed time when it came to privacy. A couple of days later, Catherine who was still living in London, was due to arrive at the airport. Not one for lacking in confidence, she'd decided that she wanted meet Michael for the first time without Graham being there, so had persuaded Harry to bring Michael with him when he came to collect her. Way past Michael's and their usual bed times. The absent Graham now living and working with a couple of mates, who had introduced him to surfboarding and had persuaded him to join their small but expanding enterprise. It wasn't what Harry had envisaged his son doing, but then as Graham had pointed out to him, he hadn't expected his father to be instrumental in him moving to the north of England with a soon to be wife and a son. He was making an honest living and he was happy.

As was Ruth, now that she and Harry were together, in every sense of the word. She was currently luxuriating in the shower after a snatched hour that they'd spent in bed. Harry having spent the previous half an hour revisiting Michael's favourite game of catch me if you can, as he'd tottered around the sofa in pursuit of his father. Which on this occasion with Christmas approaching, had the promise of some chocolate buttons if he caught him, was sleeping soundly.

Inviting Harry to join her _was_ very tempting. Especially as she could see him leaning against the door frame, with an expression that suggested they had time before he went to the airport. Making up for what had felt like a lifetime without intimacy, their love making that had been a slow burner at first, had grown into a revelation that belied their years. Which in a house that was large enough so that his two older children wouldn't be able to hear them, Harry had promised Ruth a Christmas Eve visit from Santa that she'd never forget. Two practice runs, before Harry donned and then tore off his red suit and beard and Ruth was up for anything. Why not she thought. Harry when he was like this was totally irresistible and they did have time.

* * *

Based outside the city, Newcastle Airport had grown from what had once been a small airfield in the seventies, to a major airport that accepted international flights. Somewhere that was far grander and much more noisy, Harry was worried on two counts. Firstly, that Michael who up until then had been sheltered from crowds and noise, would be frightened or would throw a tantrum, as he lifted him out of his car seat and strapped him into his buggy. Holding tight to Ru, his somewhat obviously named cuddly reindeer that Harry hadn't been able to resist buying him in advance of Christmas, Michael was coping far better with the situation than he was.

He knew that Graham had taken a lot longer to adjust to having a baby brother, whereas Catherine who had always been more positive had been thrilled. These thoughts being a smokescreen to the other thing that was worrying Harry, as people dodged the buggy in pursuit of their flights and he tucked himself in a corner with a coffee and with Michael on his lap. For years, he'd tried to think of his children as equals and to treat them as such. But Catherine had always known that he'd felt far closer to her than he had to Graham. Something that with the arrival of Michael, had turned his world on it's head. Never dreaming that he'd have another child, never mind that it would be with Ruth, had been life changing. Would Catherine be capable of understanding how he felt about Michael and if she did, would she be able to accept it? Because he loved this child with every inch of his soul and he knew how hard it was going to be for him to disguise it. Especially now when it was Christmas, which was meant for children such his precious little boy.

* * *

_I had intended that this would be the final chapter. But having gone off at a tangent and created another conundrum for Harry to deal with and a surprise from Ruth, they'll be one more._


	12. Chapter 12

_In the run up to Christmas._

Graham's comment that Harry would let Michael down, had galvanised Ruth into keeping a diary. That and what she would _never ever _tell Harry. That Graham had called Michael a bastard. She'd kept her distance. Easy to do in a large house that had a beach on it's doorstep that she and Micheal could escape to, until the day that Graham had begged her forgiveness. He'd found the photographs that she'd been taking of her son. During bath times, when he'd been lying on his blanket in front of the fire and the best moment of all. Something that could never be repeated. It was on a warm sunny day and she and Michael had been close to the water's edge, building a sandcastle. She'd glanced away for a second to refill the bucket and when she'd looked up, Micheal had been standing. Not for very long, but long enough for her to be able to grab the camera, he'd had a flag in his hand. The Union Jack. _Very patriotic - just like his Dad_, she'd put as the caption. Harry would have loved that moment and he'd missed it. Children changed quickly, especially when they were babies, she'd told Graham. This wasn't about him, this was about his father. Who despite what he thought, through no fault of his own, was missing out on his child's first year.

She'd combined these moments into a year book that she'd intended giving Harry for Christmas, but as soon as Catherine had arrived, it had been with this, a good bottle of wine and a lot of tears, that had convinced Harry that he'd been worrying unnecessarily. On an evening after Ruth had taken Michael up to bed, with the knowledge that she wouldn't come back down, Harry had made peace with his children.

* * *

A week later and the arrangements for Christmas were well under way. Harry and Ruth were taking a welcome break from the present buying and wedding planning, and were sitting on a bench in the grounds of Alnwick Castle. An excited Michael bouncing up at down between them like a jack in the box. Billed as an evening of fun for all the family, the scene for Hogwarts was living up to its reputation. Lit up like the Fairy Tale Castle that it was, with thousands of coloured lights strung through the trees, there was Christmas music playing. Tasteful in Harry's opinion, because a much younger Aled Jones was currently singing 'Walking in the Air' from the Snowman. A particular favourite of his. He was Happy. Besides which he had an ally, albeit a very young one.

Once a spy always a spy, Harry had indulging himself for days. Telling Michael, who of course understood every word, that the plotters, who in this case were his mother and his older siblings, we're up to something. He tended to tell Michael lots of things during their special times together. Times that he knew Ruth had relinquished. Like giving him his bath and reading him his bedtime story. He'd told him about his job and how sometimes he still missed it. But that his mum was helping him to adjust. How wonderful she was and how much he loved her _and _of course him. But this was different. Two can play at this game, they were lambs to the slaughter, he was onto them, he'd told his son. Outnumbered they might be him and Michael, but they weren't going to go down without a fight, were they? Was the reason that he'd been winding Ruth up since they'd arrived.

Even though she was fully on board when it came to their suggestion. Telling Harry, that instead of spending the evening after their wedding in the restaurant that he'd chosen, that Catherine and Graham had discovered that there was going to be a bonfire party on the beach, which would include fireworks to see in the New Year, hadn't happened. He'd been so happy since Catherine had arrived and had spent hours alone with Michael. And yet now, here he was, muttering on about bloody elves and where the hell in Northumberland had these people found a reindeer?' Saying that if this reindeer turned out to be a mocked-up version of a pantomime horse with two men inside, that he'd ask for his money back and why was it that his two older children had reverted to behaving as though they were Michael's age?

Now faced with what she thought was a grumpy Harry, she had no option, other than to go for the obvious. Not that it was really her thing, and certainly not when there were other people around. Which in this case, was the queue for families with an under five, she settled on seduction. Nothing raunchy like Ros, just Ruth style. Leaning in and kissing Michael, whose entire evening depended on him seeing a reindeer, the whole purpose of their visit, she whispered in Harry's ear.

'They're from the Kielder Forest herd.' The elf who was dishing out the tickets, told Harry, as he handed over the money. Following the human herd in the direction of a covered area, where Rudolph and his relatives were currently enjoying their supper, Harry's resolve was beginning to crumble. Not known for public displays of affection, Ruth had called him lovely, with the promise of an early night. Something that he needed to blank out for the moment, as they'd reached what was labelled as 'The Gateway to Lapland'.

Commercialisation definitely, fantasy absolutely, but if they were looking for a distraction, then they were about to get one. Michael was transfixed. All the reindeer were Rudolph to him, so it didn't matter which one he went and talked too. That was until the reindeer they were heading towards snorted and he became less than certain. Turning to look at his parents for support, while at the same time trying to be brave, their beautiful boy lost his balance and toppled over. Rolling over onto his tummy, he held out his arms and with his eyes glued on his father, his face crumpled and he started to cry. Harry was done for.

_Christmas Eve, followed by Christmas Day._

Catherine who had spent the day with Graham, to give them down time she'd told Ruth, was due to arrive with her brother at any moment. In their absence, Harry and Ruth had spent the best part of the day trying to wrap presents, as well as preparing what they could, in advance of the Christmas Day meal. In front of a blazing fire, in a room that was adorned with a huge Christmas Tree, Michael who had been tearing off the wrapping paper as quickly as Ruth and Harry had been applying it, was finally asleep on the sofa behind them. Guaranteed to keep him going for several hours when he woke up, in addition to him waking up early the next morning, with the expectation of hearing hooves on the roof, thanks to Graham's intervention with a picture book. Harry was on borrowed time when it came to discovering what Ruth was up to. Having looked at the clock, he had at least another fifteen minutes before they'd be disturbed, so grabbing Ruth's hand, he bundled her towards the huge bay window. Flicking off the light switch as he passed it. Behind them, the only light was from the fire and the Christmas Tree. Perfect in Harry's mind. As was the huge nothingness in front of them, where the only lights came from the huge tankers that crossed these waters, Harry was in the mood for a little unwrapping of his own.

Behind them as his little spy colleague slept on, in the stillness of the room that he now thought of as home, Harry pulled Ruth hard against him and kissed her.

'Oops.' Catherine whispered to her brother, turning tail in the garden outside the window. The two silhouettes, one of whom had surrendered far more easily than the other had anticipated. Oblivious to the fact that they had an audience, who didn't want to see what else Ruth had under her jumper, or where their father's hands were heading.

After the chaos of Christmas Day, when most of the attention had been on Michael, with about an hour of daylight left, Ruth and Catherine were the only ones who were still awake. Creeping out of the sitting room, 'I want one of those.' Catherine whispered, nodding towards her baby brother, leaving Harry asleep on the sofa, with Michael sprawled across his chest and Graham asleep in a chair. The Snowman that Catherine had bought Michael for Christmas, still playing on the screen.

So maybe it wasn't a conversation for Christmas Night, but Ruth saw it as an opportunity. Harry had asked her to explain to Catherine, that yes he was more than happy with a party on the beach, but as kind as the offer was, that she and Graham would look after Michael so that she and Harry could stay in a hotel on their wedding night, that he wanted to stay at home. Without going into the real reason, which was that Harry still needed time to be absolutely sure that everyone from their former life was just that. He'd also asked her to tell to Catherine what she'd told Graham. A toned-down version of what had brought them to this moment. An explanation without specifics, that ensured Catherine wouldn't be compromised. How work and a long-held grievance against her father, had almost got her killed. How Harry had thought that she was dead and how neither of them had known that she was pregnant with Michael. How the reason that they'd decided to stay in the North East when he _retired_, the only lie, had been to make a fresh start.

Except that unlike Graham who had reacted with venom. Once Ruth started, by telling Catherine about the first time that Harry had taken her out, it was like lighting the blue touch paper of curiosity.

'Bugger all the negative stuff, that's your business.' She told Ruth, pouring her another drink. 'I just want to hear all the juicy bits about my newly invented Dad.'

A fast track if ever there was one, to a lasting friendship.

_New Year's Eve morning._

No fuss and no pretension had been their only stipulations, so against tradition they'd slept in their own bed the night before their wedding. It wasn't until mid-morning when Catherine arrived and dragged Ruth upstairs to get ready, that Harry found himself alone with Michael. Michael who was being treated to another of the in-depth out pourings from his father, already knew that today was going to be the happiest day of his father's life. The fact that he was nervous, so was destined to make 'a pig's ear' out of his lines, Michael thought was silly. Not that he could tell him. It was hard to find the words when you were only fifteen month's old. Already dressed for the occasion, in his new suit and the mint green tie that was Ruth's favourite, Harry was sitting with Michael on the window seat, where Harry was practising. He'd got as far as the 'All that I am I give to you' when the door opened.

'He'll be fine, won't he Michael.' Said Malcolm, with a familiarity in his voice and look on his face, that left Harry wondering if he was dreaming. Only to be told, that when Malcolm had come back from America a week ago, that he'd found the note from Beth, saying that she was trying to trace Catherine. That he'd rung Catherine who'd spoken to Ruth and the rest as they say was history.

Continuing with the theme of doing it their way and breaking with convention, the others had gone ahead. Which left Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Ruth. Which was fine until she was walking down towards him and the realisation that the moment that he'd been dreaming about was here. Her expression was one of confidence and absolute surety. She looked radiant. He handed her the posy that Catherine had given him, made up of freesias and spring bulbs that matched the blue flowered dress that she was wearing. Her nerves apparently gone, whereas his were threatening to overwhelm him as she put her hands either side of his face and kissed him. Only reminiscent of the kiss that had seen them saying goodbye in its tenderness. This kiss spoke of the future.

_Later that evening._

It wasn't exactly the circumstances in which Harry would have preferred to have been peeling Ruth out of her dress, but he was making the most of the last few moments. They were in the bedroom and getting changed, ready to head down onto the beach. With an an excited Michael, already dressed in his warmest trousers and Christmas jumper. Giggling on the marital bed as though he knew what his father was thinking. Thanks to a nap, he'd missed the afternoon of relative calm, when his parents had been treated to a speech by Malcolm over lunch. Malcolm who had come prepared for the evening ahead, was waiting in the sitting room with his trusty backpack and ear defenders for Michael.

Way above the usual number of people, the beach was busy. With hundreds tiny lights, from the torches that people were carrying, as they made their way in the direction of the huge bonfire. Harry and Ruth were searching out their usual quiet spot, by following a path across the dunes. Slightly elevated, they'd have a far better view and have the intimacy, if not completely ideal, to spend the evening after their wedding. If there was one person that they'd have chosen to spend the evening with, it was him they'd told Malcolm. Malcolm, who more than anyone else, knew what it had taken for them to get to this moment, was concentrating on the build up to the countdown not his companions.

With seconds to midnight and with the rings on both their fingers, that had finally convinced Harry that there was life beyond Thames House, turning in unison. Their eyes were totally on each other. With their son sitting between them and as the fireworks flew into the night sky, Harry mouthed I love you to his wife.

_Not only was this a New Year, this was a new Harry. A gentle Harry and Ruth loved this Harry. A Harry that overcome his nerves and had thanked her for Michael and for 'just' being her' during his vows. Who had emerged from the darkness. As had she._


End file.
